Kilmuir
by Skyebyrd
Summary: Lukas and Eiríkur Bondevik have been taken captive by the Mathias Køhler, and gone to Scotland. There, they reunite with Berwald Oxenstierna. But, the Viking Age is coming to an end...will they all make it out alive? -discontinued
1. Prologue

**Well hello there~ so, this is my first time writing a multi-chap. Go me! Haha. Anywho~I would like to point out that there is a sad amount of Viking AU's on here, despite the fact that there is much Nordic Love out there. So, I decided to do some research and discovered that Kilmuir, Skye (in Scotland) was one of the last places that the Vikings ever inhabited in the UK, so I saw a perfect place for my story. **

**Now, not a lot is known about the last battle that took place in Skye, so it was also good for me as it means I can take many artistic liberties. Although, I have done TONS of research on it, and hopefully I kept as true to history as I could have. If you see something that is wrong and shouldn't have happened, feel free to point it out and I will change it, plot line permitting. **

**This will be put at the beginning of every chapter, so feel free to ignore it from this point on. I just want to be sure to cover all bases. **

**Also, I do know that the Nordics are usually depicted as children, or pre-teens, when they are Vikings, but for story purposes I made them older. Denmark (Mathias Køhler)-17, Norway (Lukas Bondevik)-16, Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)-19, Finland (Tino Väinämöinen)-17, Iceland (Eiríkur Bondevik)-15**

**And, yes, these names were not used in the Viking era, but considering these are the names of Himaruya's characters (Denmark, Norway, and Iceland being fanon) I have to use these. So if it bugs you that they're not proper for their time period, don't read!**

**Also, for story purposes, Iceland's last name is the same as Norway's. I do know that in the anime they don't (well, according to their human names, anyway), but for this story they do as they quite literally are brothers. **

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, the characters are not mine, Vikings are not mine, and Scotland sure as heck is not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Lukas Bondevik looked around him, seeing his home through new eyes. The people, all wrapped in their cloaks and war attire, gathering provisions for the long journey ahead. He couldn't believe this, that they were actually leaving their home…he saw the snow all around, cascading down from the sky in gentle waves. His own cloak fluttered around, and he drew it close to help block the cold. His body was still not entirely acclimated to the winter yet, being only the month of September. He saw his father and mother, brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, all bustling about in order to leave as fast as possible.<p>

The Danish were coming to destroy them, after all.

"Lukas! Get over here, boy, I need help with this crate!" called his mother, Aðísla, as she attempted to carry a crate over to the long-boat. Lukas rushed over to help her, and they walked as carefully as they could, but Lukas kept tripping trying to keep up with his mother's hurried pace. Nothing in Lukas' brain seemed to be working now, everything frozen in place like the land around him…

His home. He was leaving his home. This could not be true.

The Danish were supposed to be their friends! Lukas' village had done nothing to the Densen village! Well, Lukas was considered only a child in his family's eyes, but surely he was old enough to know if his own flesh and blood had done something to anger their trading partners from across the sea?

"Mother, why are the Densen's coming to kill us? What have we done that is so terrible?" Lukas asked 2 hours later as they climbed into the long-boats and pushed off into the sea. Lukas dimly recalled his father saying that living so close to the sea would eventually save their lives, and he had to wonder at the man's knack for choosing homes. Of course, his father was off in another boat, going to meet the Densen's to fight on the water…

"Lukas, you need not ask so many questions. Now, go tend to your brother. He is cold; give him your cloak." Aðísla quickly replied to her son's query, and danced around the boxes of their belongings to join Lukas' aunt, Hjálmgerðr , at the opposite end of the ship.

"B-brør?" Eiríkur called out, and Lukas quickly joined him. Eiríkur, despite being nowhere near the youngest (in fact, there were five younger than him, and four above Lukas himself in the family, another on the way _[1]_) was always treated as such. He was always sick; the cold winters were particularly harsh upon his frail body, and he had never become accustomed to boats. Lukas dimly remembered the summer they had found him wandering along the Norwegian shoreline, mumbling something about an island he had to find. His mother figured the boy had a raging fever (he did, in fact), and so they brought him home and adopted him as their own. It had taken around a week for Eiríkur to become better, but his illness had weakened his body, causing him to be frail ever since.

Lukas had been six at the time, Eiríkur five. When the younger of the two had woken up, Lukas had been there, and the two boys had taken to each other immediately.

"Sh, Eiríkur. It's okay. Here, have my cloak. It'll keep you warm." Lukas shrugged out of his deep red cloak, wrapping it around the younger boy. Eiríkur tightened it around his chest, grateful for the warmth. Lukas was used to the open sea; it had practically been his second home. He was used to the cold spray in the air around them, the harsh wind whipping through their hair- Eiríkur was not.

"Brør, why are we leaving? I thought…" Eiríkur's voice trailed off as he settled into a coughing fit, and Lukas scrambled to find Eiríkur's drinking horn, and he tore off the cap, pressing the tip to Eiríkur's mouth. Eiríkur took in only a small portion, as fresh water would be hard to come by in the time to come, especially if they were running from the Densen's.

After Lukas had put Eiríkur's drinking horn back into its case, the younger one continued. "I thought the Densen's were our trading partners. Why are they attacking us? And why aren't we staying to fight?" Eiríkur asked, and he looked exhausted.

"I don't know, Eiríkur. I thought so too. And you know why we are not going out to fight the Densen's with the other men. You are far too sickly, and I am the only one whom you allow to treat your illness." Lukas said gently, with a little bit of humor. Eiríkur had grown somewhat independent of Lukas in his nine years of living with the Bondevik's, but he still had to have Lukas treat him. Lukas sometimes wondered why, but it had always been that way, so he had grown used to it.

"Lukas, do you think that we are going to that place? The one that the Oxenstierna's went to a few years ago?" Eiríkur asked thoughtfully, and Lukas had to think hard about who the Oxenstierna's were…ah, yes. Now he remembered.

Specifically, a tall, blonde boy with piercing, harsh blue eyes. What was his name again? Ah, it was Berwald. Lukas dimly recalled he was from Sweden, and Lukas' family had traded quite often with the Oxenstierna's…

"I can't believe you remember them, Eiríkur. I barely remember them myself! But, yes, I do believe that is where we are heading. It has saved many of our neighboring friends in the past." Lukas answered, still trying to remember the details of that year of seeing the Oxenstierna's every month…

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><p>"Lukas, come here!" Aðísla called to her son, who slowly walked over with his Eiríkur. "This is Berwald Oxenstierna. We have begun trading with his family, and I expect you to play nice with him, okay?"<p>

Lukas nodded as Eiríkur grabbed his hand nervously. The seven-year-old was still nervous around people that weren't his adopted family, and Lukas suspected it had something to do with the fact that he had been lost and practically dead on his feet when they had found him. He must have been kidnapped to be used as a slave, and then somehow had been set free (or escaped); after all, what kind of family would leave their child to that?

"Yes, moðir _[2]_." Lukas said, and Eiríkur shuffles so he's standing behind his older brother.

"H'llo." Said a gruff voice, and Lukas saw an older boy step out from behind the woman Lukas' mother was talking to. He had blonde hair, a few shades lighter than Lukas', and deep blue eyes. He seemed to squint at everything he looks at, as if he can't quite see anything, and Lukas wondered if his eyes are bad like his uncle's.

"Hello, Berwald. My name is Lukas Bondevik, and this is my younger brother, Eiríkur. It is a pleasure to meet you." Lukas said, the words as crisp and cold as the air around them. Berwald's mother laughed at this, telling Lukas' mother about how she had a "V'ry p'lite l'ttle one." Aðísla just shrugged fondly, saying "That's my Lukas for you."

Berwald, Lukas, and Eiríkur had eventually begun to unfreeze toward each other, and spent many an hour speaking of highly important business (the formation of mud pies, how to properly wield a stick, and what to do if your shield was "accidentally" used for firewood by your parents, being their primary subjects).

After knowing the Oxenstierna's for only one year, the other family had set off. The fields from their village in Sweden had become inhabited by a fungus, and had ruined every bit of wheat and barley they had planted, as well as their left-over seeds from the previous year. So, in search of food, they had decided to go to a far away island to find shelter and new fields. Lukas had been there to see the family off himself, along with his faðir _[3]_, faðirbróðir _[4]_, and Eiríkur. Lukas and Eiríkur had only been granted permission to do so after begging their faðir to take them along, and finally Áskell had agreed to take the boy's along. Lukas and Eiríkur had been overjoyed when they had seen the older boy, but all too soon their games had to come to an end as the Oxenstierna's belongings were completely put in the long-boat.

"Well, Berwald, it has been a pleasure to have known you." Lukas said stoically, sticking his little hand out to be shaken. It was grasped by a hand much larger than his, the now eleven-year-old having grown much more than he should have by that age. Lukas, eight, was still the same size as he had been when he had met the Swede, and the difference was obvious.

"L'kw'se. I w'll m'ss you, Luk's. 'nd you, Eir'k'r." At these words, Eiríkur nearly broke down with tears, and grabbed the Swede, holding on tightly.

"You were my first friend, Berwald. A'sides Lukas. Thanks." And with that, the younger boy let go, eyes filled with tears. His first friend, the first person he had opened up to besides his adopted family, had to leave him so soon. Lukas put his arm around Eiríkur for support, and Berwald mumbled a "w'lc'me."

Then the Swede had run to the boat, and they had pushed off, in search of that place they called Scotland.

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><p>"Most likely, Eiríkur. After all, faðir has talked about moving there for quit some time. Think of this as a...push to finally get there. Let us hope that we get there with our lives intact, though." Lukas said, as he sat beside his brother, squeezing between him and the crate of jerky to Lukas' left.<p>

"I hope faðir will be okay. And all the other men. May the Allfather _[5]_ protect them." Lukas nods at Eiríkur's soft, worried words. Lukas felt horrible, having to be stuck with his younger brother. He was a Viking, he shouldn't have to be stuck here taking care of his younger brother. No, he wasn't complaining per se, but it was still...tiring. Here he was, a healthy sixteen-year-old, and not being allowed to fight alongside his own family. His brother Smiðkell, who was fourteen, was allowed to fight! So why shouldn't Lukas?

But, Lukas realized, if he did go to fight, he would most likely die. He had always taken care of his brother, and throughout the years when he should have been training to fight and conquer far off lands, he had instead been helping Eiríkur with his illness. The men at the village had often called him horrible things when they had discovered he stayed at home, acting nurse to his brother. Most of the taunts being _kottrinn inn blauði__ [6], and sansorðinn [7]._

Lukas scowled as the memories bowled through his mind, the words thrown out in the air echoing through his brain. But, no matter how much he denied it, he knew the insults had a ring of truth to them. For he was. It was an awful feeling, knowing he was. Knowing that he would never be able to actually be with a man, for Lukas could never be the...dominant one.

Of course, that is the only way to be looked down upon for being...this way. Is if you acted like a woman through the...act. It was considered cowardice, horrific, to lower yourself to the place of a woman through the act of intercourse between men. To be in the role of a man was perfectly okay, for you were not shaming your body, but to be passive...

Lukas shuddered. If he ever commited that act, and people found out...he could be cursed. Any number of his fellow village members could take an animal that bears children, cut off its head, put it on a stick, point it towards his house and speak those unbearable words of hatred _[8]_.

"Lukas? Do you hear that...?" Eiríkur whispered to Lukas, who silenced his thoughts to try and hear through the high winds and crashing waves. Just on the edge of the scope of his hearing, he could barely make out a sound...that seemed to be getting closer.

It was the calls of battle. And these calls were not in the dialect of Lukas' village.

It was the Densen's, bloodthirsty and aching for war.

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><p><em>[1] In Viking households, the woman was expected to have children from the day of her marriage (the night of consummation) until she was barren, so as to honor their husbands with children. This is why the woman were so important; if their husbands pissed them off enough, they could threaten divorce, and then the husband would no longer be honored with children. Yeah, it's complicated. <em>

_[2] moðir (Old Norse) Mother (English)_

_[3]__ faðir (Old Norse) Father (English)_

_[4] faðirbróðir (Old Norse) Uncle (English)_

_[5] Allfather-this was another name for Odin, the "ruler", of sorts, of Scandinavian gods. Now, Odin was merely the ruler of Ásgarðr, the home of the Æsir. There were many "worlds" in their mythology, nine in total, with Ásgarðr being the primary one. The nine worlds were tied together through the "World Tree" Yggdrasil. Yes, it is complicated. If you want a more detailed view of Norse Mythology, just message me! _

_[6] __kottrinn inn blauði (Old Norse) Soft Cat (English)-an insult basically meaning "faggot"_

_[7] sansorðinn (Old Norse) I don't know the exact translation of the word, but it is another insult about being gay_

_[8] this was the way of "cursing" those who were the –ahem- passive role in homosexual intercourse (ohmylawd I sound like I'm 80). Mainly, the insults about being the passive partner could basically be translated to being an animal that bares young (like the Soft Cat insult above, or a mare, or a female dog), thus you were basically called a woman. So, if you took the head of an animal and pointed it towards the passive members home, then that is basically pointing them out as being such, but it also signifies that you have asked the gods to curse you. It was some pretty harsh stuff._

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><p><strong>As with all online translations, there are going to be mistakes. If you see any, please don't be afraid to point them out and correct me! I will change them if they are wrong, so please help poor little, only-speaks-stupid-English me. <strong>

**Now, this story will be a lot darker than my other stories (which should be obvious, it IS a Viking AU after all) but I just felt I should warn you guys. For anyone who has read my previous stories (OK, my two one-shots that are so fluffy you could stuff a thousand toy puffins), you will indeed be shocked that I can be this dark. (Well, maybe not TOO dark as then I shall get depressed, and we don't want that, now do we?) **

**But, still. You have been warned. **

**Also, I will indeed be putting Scotland in as a character in later chapters. I have not seen many consistent fanon names for him, so if someone could give me some names, I will choose my favorite from those. Ideas?**

**R&R and tell me what you guys think so far~**


	2. Chapter One

**Not a lot is known about the last battle that took place in Skye, so it was good for me as it means I can take many artistic liberties. Although, I have done TONS of research on it, and hopefully I kept as true to history as I could have. If you see something that is wrong and shouldn't have happened, feel free to point it out and I will change it, plot line permitting. **

**And around this time, the Vikings had, indeed, been converted to Christianity, but I wanted a story near the end of the Viking age that showed that some people still believed in the Norse gods, so don't hate me for including them in this story. **

**And to xylla-sorry, you weren't signed in so I couldn't respond to you via message but hopefully you see this! I chose brør instead of bror because the most common translation of brother in Old Norse was brør, and not bror, so that's why I used it. And yeah, I did a TON of research on this *sigh* I stayed up until 5 one morning doing research for this…and thank you so much!**

**Warnings: implied (kinda sorta maybe almost definitely) rape by Lukas' uncle to Taiwan. Sorry :T **

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, the characters are not mine, Vikings are not mine, and Scotland sure as heck is not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Brør…is that…them?" Eiríkur whispered, scared. The younger boy wrapped Lukas' cloak around him tighter, and cowered, too afraid to look up himself to check. This left Lukas to check, so he got up on his knees to look over the side of the boat, and…Lukas cursed. It was the Densen's. Somehow, they had followed this boat, instead of the one that faðir and the other men had gone in.<p>

"Yes, Eiríkur. It seems they have followed us instead. This is bad...this is really bad...do you know what they're going to do to us when they get here? They'll see it's mostly women, and then they'll see us, and...oh, no." Lukas' eyes widened as his imagination took a turn for the worst. The Danish weren't exactly known to be kind to those they fought against and took as their slaves...especially the Norwegians. _[1]_

And men like Lukas and Eiríkur. The sickly. Those who couldn't say no. Those who couldn't fight back. Those who didn't have the energy to push away, to cry out for help, to stop rough hands from roving across smooth skin...

Lukas' mind had took a turn for the worse as he imagined every sort of horrible scenario about what could happen. He remembered, once, when his faðirbróðir had bought a young girl from some far away land named Taiwan_ [2]_. Lukas had been 5 at the time, and Eiríkur hadn't entered the picture yet. The girl had been bought to help Lukas' moðir. Lukas' sister, Fastheiðr, had just passed away and Aðísla was distraught over the matter. Lukas was still too young to truly understand why his older sister wasn't around anymore, but after he had asked his moðir where his sister was, and she had burst into tears, he learned not to ask anymore. Even his faðir seemed to be as sad as Aðísla, which surprised Lukas. Faðir was a man; he shouldn't be sad. Men weren't sad, especially not Vikings!

But Lukas guessed it had something to do with his sister being gone, and, like with his moðir, he learned not to ask about her anymore. So, he had gradually gotten used to the young Asian girl in the home, helping out with gathering firewood, bilberries_ [3]_, and she often helped out in the garden. Mei (the Taiwanese girl) was around the age of 15 or so, but no one could be entirely sure as she could barely speak Lukas' language. Instead, she communicated with them by hand signals.

Lukas remembered one night, it was quite late and he had snuck back in from star-gazing, hearing her call out for help. It was one of the few words she had learned in Lukas' language, and Lukas had flown into his faðirbróðir's room, as that was where her voice was coming from.

Lukas had frozen. There was his faðirbróðir, and Mei. Doing…things. Things that should only be committed between a man and a wife, he had recalled his father telling him.

"Lukas. Leave. Go back to bed." He had said to his nephew, who was still frozen.

"But…fa-"

"GO!"

"Y-yes, sir." Lukas had said, and, shamefaced, turned away. Mei had cried out again in pain, but, that time, Lukas had not answered.

The memory was still imprinted on Lukas' brain, and he worried that…_that _might happen to him and Eiríkur as well.

"Brør, we're going to be the ones that have to protect the women, aren't we? I mean, with faðir and the other men not here, we're the only men around to do so…" Eiríkur said, and Lukas groaned. Yes. That is precisely what they would have to do.

"Yes, Eiríkur. We must do our best to protect them. No matter what." Lukas said, and he stood, holding his hand out for Eiríkur to grab on to. The younger boy yanked himself up, albeit a bit unsteadily, and Lukas looked around. For the most part, the women had all gone below deck, to the holding area where they usually stored their goods. _Good,_ Lukas thought, _perhaps, if they lock the door to down there, they won't be captured. _But, Lukas' moðir, aunt, and two of his cousins were still above with him.

He was surprised he hadn't noticed the rest of the women scramble to go below decks, but, as absorbed with his memories as he was, it wasn't much of a surprise he had missed it. The cries of bloodlust from the Danish were getting louder, and Lukas could make out the shape of their boats in the distance. Yet again, he wondered what his village had done to anger them so much.

The boats got closer to each other, the wind in Lukas' boats sails, and the strength of the Danes pushing their boats toward each other at the same pace. A trickle of fear slid down Lukas' spine, and he felt, rather than heard or saw, Eiríkur stand up behind him and move to place himself next to him.

"We're really going to do this…aren't we?" The younger boy asked, but his voice sounded firm, as if he had accepted this fate and was merely asking as reassurance to know he wasn't in this alone.

"Yes. We'll go down fighting. Just like faðir would." Lukas responded, and shifted his hands around the inside of his cloak, looking for his knife. His little brother had taken his sword when he had gone to fight with their faðir, as he did not have a sword of his own. Now, though, Lukas would be the one to fight the Danes.

And, apparently, he didn't even have his hunting knife.

"Eiríkur, please tell me you have something to fight with." Lukas begged with his eyes, and Eiríkur's own widened with fear. The boy shook his head in a silent denial.

"Lukas, Eiríkur, come over here." Their moðir called to them, and they went to meet her at the bow.

"Moðir, we will fight them. No matter what. I don't believe they've seen us yet, you still have time to go below decks with the other women, and we could tell them this was a boat to take our things over to the island, and that you all went on another boat as we thought it was safer. We could lie to them, and then you could be safe, and-" Aðísla cut her son off with a flick of her hand, and Lukas fell silent immediately.

"Lukas. Listen to me _very carefully._" She said, and Lukas nodded his assent. He was listening. The cries in the distance grew louder, and he could almost make out words through the heavy winds and crashing waves. The few words he did manage to snatch out of the air, though…they were bloodcurdling. Hatred and warmongering coated every syllable.

"Do you remember when you were young, how you found little people in the woods? People that flew about, and people that drew men into the river to die, and little people that called to you from under the moss _[4]_?" Aðísla said this with urgency, her eyes boring into Lukas', begging him to remember. Of course, begging was not needed. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't see the little sprites, fairies, and trolls. But why was she bringing this up now?

"Yes…?" Lukas answered, but his uncertainty of where his mother was heading with this conversation made it sound like a question.

"I need you to summon one. Any one. Anything. Something. Summon it. To protect you and your brother. You can't summon anything with the intention of harming another person, but if you summon it and swear to only use it to protect yourself and your brother, it will come." She continued, and now had to get quite close to Lukas for him to be able to hear her over the clamor.

"But-what will come?"

"That all depends on you. Just focus on trying to protect you and your brother. Now, your aunt, cousins, and I must go below decks now. Have strength, and my the Allfather bless you. And-whatever you do-tell them you're a Christian." And with those final words, Aðísla went under the deck and locked the door.

That's when Lukas understood. Christianity was the cause of this whole mess.

He remembered the day the bishop had come to their village, proclaiming about some great God who would forgive them of all of their sins and would allow them all into some place called Heaven that sounded a lot like Valhalla _[5]_.

Only more…boring, in many of the village boy's opinions.

"Lukas, does that mean they're here to kill us because we didn't convert?" Eiríkur asked frantically, and Lukas could only nod. He never did understand it. How someone could be so full of hate, so uncaring, so…un-accepting. How the Christian men and women, who claimed their God loved everyone, would kill those who refused to acknowledge him.

Now, though. Now he could see it. Now he was living it.

"L-Lukas, I think you should see if you can summon those beings now. I mean, we're going to need all the help we can get." Eiríkur begged, trying to look as brave as he possibly could. Lukas nearly broke at that; he was the older one, _he_ should be protecting his younger brother, and here he was, daydreaming! He was a Viking, a fierce warrior.

So he closed his eyes, and focused.

_Hello. I do not know if you shall respond to this, but my brother and I-and all of the women on this ship-need your help. I don't care who responds to this. We need protection. The Danish are planning to kill us and-_

Crash! Lukas stumbled as something jarred the ship to and fro, banging back and forth, and he was almost thrown out of the boat. He saw Eiríkur grip onto something, he couldn't quite make it out, but it seemed to steady him, so he wasn't too worried about it.

Lukas glanced about as he felt the ship calm beneath him (well, as calm as it would get in these seas) to try and figure out what had jarred the long-boat so much. He looked about in the water; perhaps he had summoned a great water spirit? Lukas' mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion possible: _J__ǫ__rmungand__r [6]._

But no. That hadn't been it, Lukas realized, and he was grateful-only for a second, mind. Maybe not even that. For he had found the cause of the commotion: a Dane had clambered aboard the ship. Yet, there was something odd about this one, something Lukas couldn't quite put his finger on-of course, he didn't have enough time to put his finger on anything as yet another man jumped aboard, and Lukas felt a thrill of fear shoot down his spine.

He looked like a berserker _[7]_.

"You! You have not been compliant with our belief system. Prepare to feel God's wrath upon your soul, little Satan-worshipper!" The berserker shouted at Lukas, and rushed forward, sword raised high, iris' widened in bloodlust.

"NO!" Said the young Danish boy, who dashed between the berserker and Lukas, who had been frozen with fright. He barely heard Eiríkur yell out his name in fear, but his whole attention was focused on the boy-no, man in front of him. Blonde hair stood up in all directions. His cloak, a deep blue like Lukas had never seen before, flailed in the wind wildly. His ragged tunic was tan, and covered in dirt…or perhaps the dirt was what made it tan in the first place, Lukas couldn't tell. His feet were covered in mere cloth, and had holes in them, as if he had taken leftover cloth from his clothes and had fashioned footwear for them.

An axe was raised to clash with the sword, and the two men stood at a stand-still, weapons against each other, trying to break free. The tension between the two men was heightened, and Lukas heard the Dane ground out something, but only caught the tail end.

"…said I could have them." Oh. So that's why the (oddly familiar) man was stopping the berserker. So he could have Lukas and his brother for himself. Lukas' anger increased tenfold, and he wished he had his sword-if he did, this man's head would be thrown over the side of the boat, with his body hanging from the sails.

"Fine, kid. Just make sure you get all the women, too. Don't spend too much time with the boys. You know the bishop doesn't like that." Said the berserker, whose rage was almost matching Lukas'. The older man dropped his sword, and stepped back, scowling at anything and everything. Lukas saw, out of the corner of his eye, another boat pull alongside theirs, and the berserker jumped into it. The first boat was in the distance, and Lukas could barely make out a third boat with a familiar flag-his faðir's.

"Hey, that was close, huh?" Said the Dane who had 'saved' Lukas and Eiríkur. Lukas glared at him, and the man seemed shocked.

"Who do you think you are, thinking you and your kinsman can just come and attack us for the pure sake of religion?" Lukas ground out, and almost cursed himself. He had forgotten to keep the fact that he was not a Christian a secret.

"Hey-is that any way to talk to me, Lukas? Especially not when I just saved you!" Lukas froze. How did he know his name? Now that sense of familiarity was beginning to gnaw at the better part of his brain, and he found himself staring into bright blue eyes…

"How do you know my name?" He asked angrily, and he felt Eiríkur move behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. The boat continued to rock back and forth, and, coupled with Lukas' sense of remembering something he shouldn't be, Lukas was glad for the support.

"How do I-do you…do you seriously not remember, Lukas?" The Dane moved closer to the brothers, but it seemed as if he hadn't even noticed Eiríkur yet. Like his only focus was Lukas. The Norwegian felt like he was going to be sick.

"What am I supposed to be remem-wait. No, I can't believe you! You were sent here to kill us, and take the women in my family! Why should I believe a single word you say?" Lukas growled, but in truth he only said this as a reassurance, to see precisely what this strange man in front of him would say to such an accusation…

"I wasn't sent here for that, Lukas. I wouldn't lay a hand on your family, or you. Ever. I only said I would come along when I learned that you would be here. I-I heard what they were planning to do to your family, and I had to save you-do you know what kind of crap I've had to deal with to claim you? They would have-well, you can probably imagine what they were planning to do with anyone they caught. I had to save you, Lukas. I couldn't let that happen to you." The Dane continued, and he got closer and closer, and on his final sentence had raised his hand as if to touch Lukas' face. The younger boy's face grew bright red, and he had gotten his answer.

"I still don't remember who you are. Who were you to me that you would…help me and my family?" Lukas asked slowly, his mind going a million miles an hour, trying to find where he had seen those eyes, that bright smile, those strong hands, that lithe body…

"I'm Mathias Køhler. And I can't believe you've forgotten your best friend."

Lukas still didn't remember.

* * *

><p><em>[1]Well, from what I can tell, only the Danish and the Norwegians hated each other. The Danish got along with everyone else, and the Norwegians got along with everyone else, but those two hated each other. A lot. Well, the Danes hated the Swedes a lot too, but during this time they were mainly focused on the Norwegians. If this is wrong, please correct me!<em>

_[2]It has been reported that the Vikings traveled all through Asia, so (considering that his father couldn't exactly travel to Taiwan and back while Lukas was alive (at that point)) I just had him buy her._

_[3]basically just blueberries_

_[4]I have tried my utmost best to find little fairy-like creatures mentioned in Norse mythology, and not much has turned up except for a few sprites and this water guy who plays the violin to lure people into a river and drowns them. So, if you have any corrections for me, they will be accepted!_

_[5]Valhalla was a lot more complicated to get into than Heaven. Most people, when they do kid!nordics mention Valhalla as the place ALL Vikings go when they get to heaven, which isn't necessarily true. Not to bash anyone (I do a ton more research than is necessary) but the Valkyries (Odin's chosen hand-maidens) chose those who died in battle before the battle actually happened, and the second those chosen died, they would be taken by the Valkyries to Valhalla. There, they would have a magnificent feast, then go to sleep. The next day, they would re-enact a fantastic battle, die, be healed, come back to life, go back to the feast again, go to sleep. They would do this every day in Valhalla, possible to train for Ragnarok (the Vikings version of the Apocolypse)._

_[6]He was a giant sea-serpent that grew up in the ocean around the city of Midgard (one of the cities in the nine worlds), and he was said to be so large he could wrap around the whole earth and swallow his tail. Thus, when he let go of his tail, the world would end (Ragnarok, as mentioned before).He was also the son of Loki._

_[7]What most Americans (yes, including myself up until I did a project on Vikings in history last year) think a Viking looks like. Ragged, foaming at the mouth, always hungry for war. Except, with a twist: they can turn into animals (okay, only a bear and a wolf but it still counts). Apparently, they were immune to any injuries, but (this is mind you, a PERSONAL OPINION as it has not actually been proved) I believe that it was the adrenaline high of being at war that caused them to not feel pain while fighting, which induced fear into their enemies so much they swore the were like animals (thus the animal comparison). But, really. If you were fighting someone and they just kept coming at you, no matter how many times you hurt them, you'd be pretty scared too._

* * *

><p><strong>So! Chapter one! What do you guys think so far, hm? Now, as I stated in the prologue, I still need a name for Scotland. He won't be coming in for a while so plenty of time to give me some names! And lots of information in this chapter...hopefully I'll get this out of my system as time goes on, but you should still expect a butt-load of random information for you guys! I think I have more information than actual story...<strong>

**Okay, that whole bit about summoning sprites, or fairies, or trolls or whatnot? I totally made that up. It has NOTHING to do with anything I have read about Norse mythology. But it wasn't random, you'll see why I mentioned it within the next two or so chapters~**

**I'm a Christian myself, so I don't mean to offend anyone while writing this, but apparently Christians were really hard-core back then. They'd get real nasty if you didn't convert. So, I decided that would be my reason for why the Danes were gonna kill Lukas' family. Don't hate me. And these Danes are being even more hard-core than they would have in history (and, mind you, there weren't any pockets of Norse mythology still lurking about by this time), it's purely for the stories sake. I've seen some people comment on historical AU's before, saying crap isn't historically correct, so I want to cover all my bases and say that I do KNOW it's not historically correct, but it's my story, so deal with it. And the sect of Christianity back then was Catholic, which I am not, so I have no idea how Catholicism works...I know there's, like, a father and stuff but other than that I have no idea. If someone wants to help me, it would be appreciated!**

**Also: does anyone on here just so happen to speak Old Norse? I know, it's a long shot, but still. If you know any words (any at all, no matter how insignificant you think the word might be) please tell me. I am having a lot of trouble finding words in Old Norse for this story. So please. Help!**

**R&R! Whoever does gets Denmark's sexy axe!**

**[EDIT] My dad just grounded me, so the next chapter is going to be SUPER SUPER SUPER late. I'm really sorry q.q**


	3. Chapter Two

**Not a lot is known about the last battle that took place in Skye, so it was good for me as it means I can take many artistic liberties. Although, I have done TONS of research on it, and hopefully I kept as true to history as I could have. If you see something that is wrong and shouldn't have happened, feel free to point it out and I will change it, plot line permitting. **

**And thank you everyone who reviewed/favorite/alerted! You all make me really happy and I give you all Denny's sexy axe (remakes of course, the original is all mine) **

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, the characters are not mine, Vikings are not mine, and Scotland sure as heck is not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

Lukas could only stare in disbelief at the Dane-no, Mathias. That was his name. Best friends? But…no. That couldn't be true, could it? Surely, Lukas would remember him clearly if that were so, and not merely this small itching at the corner of his memory.

"But…no. That's not possible." Lukas stuttered out, and Mathias looked broken.

"Think, Lukas. _Think. _Surely, you must remember something. Anything at all. I mean, we spent almost 3 years together, I saw you every day, I-"

"If brør says he doesn't remember you, then he doesn't remember you, and you would do well to recognize that!" Eiríkur yelled, and he stepped out from behind Lukas. Mathias seemed shocked to see that someone else was there, as if he had only seen Lukas, and noticed nothing else.

"Brør? But…I don't remember you. And you two look to be only a year apart on age…then I should have met-" Eiríkur quickly cut him off.

"Look, you're obviously making this entire thing up, so you can drop this façade you've developed. We're not buying it! Honestly, thinking you could trick us with this obvious lie about knowing Lukas! How stupid do you think we are?" Lukas was surprised. He had never seen Eiríkur this heated before, and every time Mathias went to intercede on the boys' rant, Eiríkur only seemed to grow louder and angrier.

"Eiríkur…I think he may be right." The two other Vikings turned to stare at him disbelievingly, Mathias with hope and Eiríkur with disdain. "Not that whole part about being 'best friends' but I think I might have known him once. I'm not entirely sure, but I have to admit there is _something _familiar about you." Lukas said, and Mathias' face turned crestfallen, then happy once again.

"At least you know that we used to know each other. That's a start, at least." Mathias said, his mouth quirking up into a lighthearted grin. But, yet again, his grin faded as he seemed to realize something.

"I-I still have to take you guys with me. I'm sorry, but it's the only way you guys can be safe. You don't know what they'd do to you if it weren't for me. They were planning to-"At this, Mathias seemed to become sick as his face took on a shade of green. As if the idea of someone harming Lukas was sickening to him…

Lukas wondered at how close they had been, when they knew each other. Who was this boy, to remember who he was enough to come out and save Lukas from the Densen's? What were they to each other…?

"No! You cannot take us! We won't allow it, right, brør?" Eiríkur yelled out, and he looked at Lukas for reassurance.

"I…don't think we have much choice in the matter, Eiríkur. This seems to be the safest course of action we could possibly take. It's either this, or…" Lukas' voice trailed off, and he looked out to where his faðir's boat was. The Densen's boat, along with the one that picked up the berserker, was almost there, and he could almost hear the shouts of war reach him across the waves and wind.

"But-Lukas!" Eiríkur stalked up to him, and they began having a whispered argument about what to do.

"I don't know if we should trust him, Lukas! This is most likely all a lie, and he'll probably…_hurt_ you if finds out." Eiríkur said, and Lukas scowled.

"Then I won't let it slip. Simple as that. And I didn't say I trusted him, I merely said it was our best offer. Plus, if it wasn't our best offer, do you think he would be letting us discuss this right now? Obviously, he won't treat us to much harm." Lukas ground out, and Eiríkur looked unsure. The latter glanced back at the Dane, who was looking out over the water to the fight on the sea. He had walked down near the bow of the long boat to give them space, but not enough that they could attack him without him seeing them.

"He wants to keep us as _slaves,_ Lukas. Whether he treats us well or not, we'll be slaves. You can't honestly tell me that you're going to accept this without a fight." Eiríkur whispered unbelievingly, and shook his head. Lukas had to wonder at when Eiríkur had suddenly become so…_sure._

"It is the only choice we have, Eiríkur. If we don't go with him, who knows what will befall us at the hands of the Densen's." Lukas was furious, and had to think about what could possibly be running through Eiríkur's head, and why he couldn't see reason. Eiríkur looked angry, and he and Lukas had a staring contest, something that had not occurred since Eiríkur had wanted to go and find Berwald after the Swede had gone to Scotland. Then, after a mere few moments of their gazes meeting, Eiríkur had backed down; now, however, it seemed Lukas might be the one to lose this battle.

"Uh, guys? I know I kinda made it clear that you guys could talk this over, but I'm kinda in a hurry. Either you can come with me without me having to handcuff you, or knock you out, or I can do just that. I don't want to, but it'll keep you safe in the long run. I promise. So please…I really don't want to have to hurt you, Lukas." Mathias said, sidling up to them. Lukas turned to look at the Dane, and he could see that he was telling the truth.

"We'll come with you." Lukas said, but then he realized something. "However, we will on only one condition."

Mathias' eyebrows quirked together, coupled with him saying "Oh? And what would that be?"

To which Eiríkur also said "Yeah, Lukas. What condition?" Eiríkur seemed truly puzzled, as if he had completely forgotten the women below the ship.

"You tell the men of your village that our women went off in another ship, on another route that my brother and I were not told; and that there is nothing of value in this boat, and that it should be dragged to a riverbank and left to rot." Lukas stated, and Mathias seemed to think it over. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. But they most likely won't believe me; they'll want to check the brig and see if there is anything available to scavenge. And when they do, they'll see I'm a liar, and won't let me keep you, and…well…you can see where that would lead." Mathias trailed off, thinking aloud as he realized how flaw-filled Lukas' plan truly was.

"Not necessarily. The door to the lower decks locks from the inside, so it is useless to your people." Lukas huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

"Jeez, Norge. I've seen you for the first time in about ten years, and you already get an attitude." Mathias grinned, but he seemed to accept the scenario as Lukas said it.

Lukas was frozen.

"What did you just call me?" Lukas said, shocked. Norge? Where did that come from?

"Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting that you don't remember me, heh. Well, it was a nickname I came up with for you. Pretty cool, huh?" Mathias said, and he seemed awfully proud of himself.

"Please tell me we were really young when we knew each other. Because if it was recently, and you came up with something as stupid as that, I'm afraid I would have to doubt your sanity." Lukas muttered, when he felt something come up close to him. He glanced back, about to ask Eiríkur what he wanted, when he saw his younger brother had retreated to the other end of the ship, sitting alone.

His eyebrows drew together, and he looked around again. He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look at it, it disappeared.

_What could it be?_ Lukas wondered.

But, Lukas couldn't see the whatever-it-was again, so he didn't know.

"I will do everything I can to keep you and your brother safe, and I will do my best to make sure they don't go into the storage areas. I promise." Mathias said as he appeared at Lukas' side. Lukas jumped; he had been distracted finding the unknown being to hear Mathias step up behind up.

"That will have to be enough…" Lukas trailed off with worry. Countless possibilities of failure sprang forth in his mind, and he closed his eyes, holding on to the edge of the boat. The wind still pushed the boat farther and farther out to sea, and the waves still crashed against its side, and spray still flew all around them.

"I…you know I would much rather help you without taking you guys prisoner, right? It's just…this is the only way. If I could help you any other way, I would but…" Mathias trailed off as well, and Lukas could sense how much he hated the idea of harming him and his brother.

"I know, Mathias. I may not know why I know, or why you do, but I know." Lukas sighed, and he closed his eyes. He felt the spray hit his face again, and he realized he was almost drenched. He shivered, and wished he hadn't given his extra cloak to Eiríkur…

Lukas' eye opened as he felt a cloak fall over his own shoulders. He looked to see Mathias in just a tunic, and Lukas noticed it was ragged, made in the same fashion as his shoes had been; like they were merely scraps of leftover fabric.

Mathias grinned at Lukas, who felt his face heat a small bit. Luckily, it wasn't that much of a difference from his already-rosy cheeks, thanks to this insufferable cold that billowed around them like a blanket.

"You looked cold." Mathias replied to Lukas' confused glance. "I thought this would help. It's the least I could do, since I'm going to be taking you prisoner and stuff."

"And stuff. How elaborate." Lukas muttered, and he could already feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing through his head. Then he heard a shout across the water, and hastily turned to look back at the battling ships.

It seems the Danes had finally boarded the ship. Lukas turned away, and Mathias put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Brør…do you think that they'll…?" Eiríkur appeared by the two Vikings, and Lukas bit his lip. Eiríkur's sentence could be interpreted in two ways: that they would live, or wouldn't. Lukas had no idea what he meant, and, as they both knew the answer to that, he didn't answer.

"I'm sorry for what my people have done, Lukas. I am so sorry…" Mathias repeated that sentence, over and over, until Eiríkur burst again.

"Oh, yeah? Say that to my faðirbróðir! Or my little brother! Or my cousins! Oh, wait, you can't-they're all being _killed for no reason._" He yelled, and Lukas turned to look at Eiríkur.

"Brør, calm down. There is no need to-" Lukas said, but Mathias cut in.

"It's okay. It's the least I could let him do, considering what I'm doing."

"Don't try to suck up to me, idiot. I know you're just going to do _things_ to brør the second I turn my head. Look, you're already making him trust you with that stupid cloak!" He burst out, and Mathias looked confused.

"Oh, don't tell me you honestly don't know. It's obvious what you want with my brother. It's written all over your face." He spat, his voice growing louder and louder.

"Eiríkur, the women will hear you, please be quiet-" Lukas tried to intercede, but was cut off once again.

"I seriously don't know what you're talking about. I would never dream of doing anything to you guys, honestly. I wouldn't lay a finger on-"

"Oh don't make me laugh. What other reason would you have for this? I mean, we don't even know you-"

"It's not my fault that Lukas can't remember-"

"He can't remember because it never happened-"

"It did too! Just because _you_ hadn't shown up yet doesn't mean-"

"Will you guys be quiet?" Lukas yelled out, finally caving in to his annoyance at his brother and Mathias' bickering. They ceased their yelling, and looked at him, their breath slowing.

"Honestly. Eiríkur." Lukas said, and his younger brother snapped to attention. "You will go along with this. You have always trusted my judgment before, so go along with it this time. I trust him-to an extent-and thus you will too. Understood?" Eiríkur nodded, and seemed frightened; he had never seen his older brother act like this before.

"And you. Mathias. I will not allow you to speak to my brør like that. You said you wanted us to come along without a fight, and yet here you are, egging him on. You don't need to defend me at all. I can fight my own battles. Clear?" Mathias hastily nodded as well, and Eiríkur nodded again.

"Good. Now, Mathias. You said we needed to be taken captive; where are we going to be going?" Lukas asked, and Mathias stood at attention, not unlike Eiríkur had but seconds ago.

"Well, we're going to head to Scotland. I know, we're from Denmark, why would we be taking you guys there? Well, we have a colony over in Kilmuir, and since we were going to be heading there eventually, I guess they thought it'd be okay to, well…you know." Mathias answered, shrinking away at the last sentence.

"Scotland? But that's where-" Lukas silenced Eiríkur with a glare.

"Where what?" Mathias asked, his curiosity evident in his bright blue eyes.

"Nothing." Lukas answered, his eyes going back to the boats in the distance. The wind had carried them even farther from the battling ships, and he could barely make them out on the horizon.

They were going farther and farther away from his father. From his brothers. From his cousins. From the majority of his family. He only hoped he could keep the other part safe from the hands of the Densen's.

"Do you know someone in Scotland?" Mathias asked, persistent. Neither Lukas nor Eiríkur answered his inquisition.

The three boys lapsed into silence as the wind pushed them southwest, through the roiling ocean. The cold persisted, the waves persisted, the spray persisted, the silence persisted, the fear persisted.

Lukas sighed. Perhaps being reminded of Berwald Oxenstierna would come in handy as they traveled to Scotland.

**What? No information this time? What has the world come to? Haha, but I'm sure you guys are pretty thankful. Like I said before, I have gotten most of it out of my system. Maybe there'll be more, maybe not…**

**What did you guys think of this one? And sorry for its lateness, I've been working on some other one-shots that I've gotten ideas for. And school stuff. I know, excuses excuses…I truly am sorry for it being so late though. I feel like the worst author ever…**

**Oh, and for those of you who think that Iceland is acting OOC (there haven't been any people saying so, so far, this is just a pre-emptive STRIKE AGAINST THE HATERS) he isn't OOC. Iceland is supposed to TRY AND ACT all cool and calm and such, but underneath he's all heated and feeling-y (if that's even a word) and he ends up exploding more often than he would like. **

**It just annoys me when people make Iceland and Norway act the same, when they're not. Iceland merely strives to act like Norway, but fails. A lot. **

**And I know this chapter was bad, hopefully the next one will be better!**

**R&R please! Whoever does, gets Norway's cross barrette!**


	4. Chapter Three

**Not a lot is known about the last battle that took place in Skye, so it was good for me as it means I can take many artistic liberties. Although, I have done TONS of research on it, and hopefully I kept as true to history as I could have. If you see something that is wrong and shouldn't have happened, feel free to point it out and I will change it, plot line permitting. **

**I am so sorry to **_**everyone**_**! I got writer's block over Christmas break, and it's just been gone since then...I seem to have gotten over it for the most part, though. I am so sorry if this chapter is less than satisfactory, I'm not doing a very good job at writing lately (if any of you read my PruAus fic Dance With Me, you will have noticed that). So, again, my apologies to everyone. **

**I can't say that I won't take this long with updating ever again, though, as much as it pains me to. I wish I could update like I had with the first two (technically three, if you include the prologue) chapters, but I just...can't. **

**Thank you everyone who has reviewed/favorite/alerted! You all make me so happy, and you are all so deserving of Norway's barrette!**

**And I only just figured out that it's actually Ireland that's the island, not Scotland. I have gone back and changed it, so please excuse my ignorance. I feel awful…I just get them flipped around in my mind sometimes, I am so sorry…**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, the characters are not mine, Vikings are not mine, and Scotland sure as heck is not mine.**

**Betaed by: LovelyToMeetYou (love you girl~)**

Lukas looked across the water as the cold settled even farther in his bones. He saw the bright green of the land in front of him, and his mind wandered to what was to come. He looked to his left for the umpteenth time that day, checking on Eiríkur's sleeping form. The younger boy had been sick the last two days, and had slept through most of their journey on the sea.

Lukas sighed, his hand on the edge of the long-boat. It was the last tie he had to his family now; the women were long gone, having departed the previous day on some island they had come across. His eyes closed as his moðir's sad, smiling face played across his eyes as she said goodbye to her two sons for the final time.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they would never meet again.

Mathias had suggested it two days ago. He had said that, in order to make sure that no one ever got to the women in Lukas' family, they should leave the women behind. So, as the boat had glided across the rough waves of the ocean, Lukas and Mathias had their eyes peeled for any sign of land on the way to Scotland. Finally, after a day of searching, they had seen an island on the edge of the horizon, looking like a paradise in the sunset.

* * *

><p>They moved the long-boat in the direction of the paradise, and docked. Lukas quickly knocked three times on the door that went below decks, and his moðir opened up. She looked worn; her long hair was wound in ragged braids, her own tunic covered in dirt and sweat from being packed in a small space with many people. A few of the younger women had to hold back the children who immediately jumped up to go and get some fresh air.<p>

"Lukas? Where are we?" Aðísla asked warily, her eyes squinting at the bright light.

"An island, moðir. Eiríkur and I promised we would keep you and the women safe, so that is what we are doing." Lukas answered, his voice strong and unwavering. He knew what he was doing was the right decision; after all, there wasn't much choice in the matter.

Mathias materialized beside him then, his bright smile in place.

"Hello. I'm Mathias Køhler. You probably don't remember me, but-"

"Mathias? Is that really you?" Aðísla asked credulously, her eyes still squinting but only just so. She fixed her gaze on the Dane and smiled warmly.

"My, it's been a long time since I've seen you. Thank the All-father you are safe, my dear." Lukas' moðir then hugged Mathias, and his smile fell a little, making him look sad and reminiscent. He closed his eyes, and held her close. Lukas noticed this, and his annoyance with his memory was made even more so. Who was this man? His own moðir even treated him like a son!

Eiríkur had walked up beside the two people embracing and gave a soft cough. Aðísla drew apart from Mathias, and smiled softly at the younger son. She pulled him forward into a tighter embrace than the one she had given Mathias, and Eiríkur looked shocked, but not in an unhappy way. In all actuality, he had coughed not for attention, but just as a way to get his moðir to stop hugging the Dane.

"Uh, moðir?" Lukas asked hesitantly, and Aðísla looked up from her embrace, pulling away slightly. The boat shuddered as it ran onto shore, and they all lost their footing slightly, but soon regained it. Mathias jumped down into the water, and ran to the front, pulling a rope that had been placed there earlier by the Dane, and he yanked the long-boat even further onto the shore.

"Yes, Lukas?" Aðísla asked her son with a gentle smile, expecting a question like "Do you think we'll see each other again?", and she was already preparing an optimistic answer, although they both knew the answer would just be a blatant lie.

"Who is Mathias…exactly?" Lukas was hesitant in his question; he wasn't sure if he would like the answer.

Aðísla's eyebrows shot up. Did her son not…remember? No; the two boys had been friends for nearly four years of his life, surely he would remember...but, then, why ask if he knew?

"Well…how shall I put this? He was your best friend for the first four years of your life. And you were always asking about him to me in secret, whenever Eiríkur wasn't around, for almost three years after he moved back to Denmark." She answered as well as she could, and then thought for a moment longer, trying to see if she forgot anything. The two boys had been the best of friends, and had a certain bond that was so strong, so pure, Aðísla was surprised by it almost every time she had taken Lukas over to play with the Køhler boy.

The second that her son had walked over the threshold, no matter how silent they were being, Mathias came bounding forth from the back room where the children slept _[1]_. The blonde boy would tackle her son to the floor, shouting "NORGE!" the whole time; it was a complete mystery to Aðísla where the nickname had come from, but it had stuck.

"Is that it?" Lukas asked her, and she snapped back to the present.

"What do you mean, is that it?"

"Is that all he was? A friend?" Something seemed to be pestering her son, so she thought for a moment before answering.

"Well…you two had the strongest bond I had ever seen. It was very surprising; the second you met each other, you just became attached at the hip, and you two could barely even crawl yet!" She laughed at the memory, of two babies staring at each other in awe, one reaching out to yank on the other's curl, and then the former getting hit by the latter.

Lukas ignored the laugh, figuring it to be some memory of hers that he would rather not get into at the moment. "So…okay. Well, as long as he is telling the truth."

That caught his moðir's attention.

"Did you…did you not at least recognize him?" She asked, stunned. Surely their bond would have been enough to at least recognize the other, even if one wasn't entirely sure why they recognized the other.

Lukas quickly backtracked. "Oh, I did. I just…couldn't remember him in the slightest." He returned his gaze to his moðir moðir from where it had been trained on Mathias. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, and he watched as Mathias threw one of the younger girls into the air, their laughter ringing out brightly. That laughter tugged at his memory, like everything else the Dane did.

"I'm sure you will eventually. If I know Mathias, he won't stop until you remember every last bit of your time together. But, Lukas...you _were_ merely babies at the time you met, and you only last saw each other when you were five, so it's not odd that you have forgotten about him." She tried to comfort her son, but he seemed lost in his own world.

"Then how come he remembers?"

Aðísla had no answer.

* * *

><p>"Lukas?" Mathias asked hesitantly, stepping up beside him. The Norwegian jumped, shocked at the sudden appearance, but schooled his face quickly and glanced behind him.<p>

"What?" He snapped, and winced at how cruel he sounded.

"Uh, sorry, but we're...kinda here..."

Lukas looked back out to the sea that had blurred from his vision, and, sure enough, there in the distance was land. It didn't look all too different from the island that they had left the women at, and he felt that pang of sadness in his chest all over again.

"So I see." He muttered, and Mathias leaned against the railing, facing Lukas.

"What's going to happen to Eiríkur and me once we dock?" Lukas asked stiffly, and Mathias grimaced, obviously uncomfortable with either the question or the answer.

"Well, I'm gonna take you to my house, obviously. Well, it's not so much my house as it is my cousin's family's house. We're gonna stay there with them, and you're gonna have to sleep with all the other thralls _[2]_, sorry."

_He looks so pained by this_, Lukas thought. It was almost amusing; after all, Mathias wasn't the one that was about to be shamed, was he? About to be abused, about to sleep in a stall, about to be shoved, pushed, insulted, dirtied-Lukas stopped his train of thought quickly. It was doing no one any good to dwell on such things...

"And then you'll have to listen to everything they tell you to do. They're a very nice family, truth be told, although Ian can be a bit much at times; you get used to him, though. Just don't let him get to you. Gwynn's probably the most relaxed of the whole family, but he's a bit too obsessed with sheep in my opinion...just don't upset or insult them, and I'm sure you'll be fine.

As for Russell, well...he's just like most guys, I guess, although he has his own peculiar way of doing things. Then there's Arthur; man, he's a great guy!" At mentioning Arthur, Mathias laughed heartily, his nose scrunching up some. Lukas had a strange feeling burn in his chest, and he felt instinctively that he wouldn't like this Arthur very much.

"Yeah, Arthur's a really good friend of mine. Anyways, I'll explain to them that you can't speak either Celtic or Gaelic; but I'm sure that'll be fine, because my cousin Tino can speak Old Norse, since he's from Finland originally. He's very chill, too, and seems really shy at first, but the second he becomes used to you being around he'll talk your ear off about anything and everything." Again, he laughed, although this one was less boisterous and gentler.

"I'm sure." Lukas said drily, and was about to continue on (with what, he wasn't entirely sure) when he heard coughing from behind him. His eyes widened, and he spun around on the balls of his feet, running toward his younger brother.

"Uh-what's-" Mathias began to say, coming up behind Lukas, curiosity evident in his voice, but Lukas quickly cut him off.

"Mathias- run over to that crate, and get his drinking horn, please." Lukas tried to keep his voice calm, if only for Eiríkur, and he only just managed it. His hands rubbed circles between his brother's shoulder blades, patting it hardly every third rotation or so. The Dane quietly nodded, rushing over to the crate Lukas had pointed at. He hurriedly yanked off the lid, and dug, and dug, and-

"Oh, come on, _where_ _is it?_" Mathias ground out, his hands still going through everything, until his fingers came across something that felt cracked- he pulled it out, and, sure enough, it was a drinking horn. He ran back over to the brothers, where Eiríkur was still having trouble catching his breath. Mathias kneeled down next to them, and Lukas silently held out his left hand, asking without words for the drinking horn; Mathias immediately understood, and promptly handed it over.

"Eiríkur, you're going to have to hold your breath, drink this, let the breath out through your nose, and then swallow the water. Okay?" Lukas said with another smack in between the younger one's shoulder blades. Eiríkur weakly nodded, and his coughing stopped almost immediately; Lukas lifted the horn to Eiríkur's mouth, and he quickly swallowed. A rush of air followed, then the sound of swallowing.

Eiríkur coughed once, feebly, but then smiled at Lukas.

"W-why did he do that? Are you sick?" Mathias was frantic and looked unbelievably worried, directing his latter question to Eiríkur and the former to Lukas.

"Like hell I'm gonna-"

"Yes, very sick. We found him wandering the Norwegian coast when I was six and he was five. He had a raging fever, and couldn't tell us anything about himself apart from his name, and he's been sick ever since." Lukas interrupted, as he tipped the drinking horn back again and forcing Eiríkur to take another sip of water. The younger brother glared at Lukas, who raised an eyebrow as if to say "He was going to find out eventually."

Mathias looked shocked.

"So...you...both of you have memories of your childhood that you can't remember?"

Lukas and Eiríkur looked at each other, expressions resembling the Dane's. They had never even made that connection; granted, they didn't even know Lukas had missing memories until three days ago, but still...surely one of them should have put two and two together?

"Well, I suppose so...yes." Lukas said haltingly, glancing back at Mathias.

"Well...don't you think that's kinda, I don't know, _weird_?"

Lukas stared at Mathias for a moment, wondering if he was serious.

"Of course it's weird, idiot!" Eiríkur snapped, coughing slightly near the end of his sentence. The sea had not been good on his health at all, and Lukas was afraid the state of deterioration wouldn't slow once they were on land again.

"Hey, now, Eiríkur, there is no need to insult me! Especially not when I'm worried about you." Mathias said, pouting, and Eiríkur scowled.

"Look, just because Lukas tolerates you-"

"Barely." Lukas muttered.

"_Anyway._" A pointed glance was shot toward his older brother, and then he continued. "Just because he tolerates you, doesn't mean that I shall. So don't address me as if we've suddenly become friends, okay?"

Mathias looked utterly wounded, but then the boat shuddered as it ran ashore. Lukas quickly stood up after the boat stilled, and he looked around, trying to memorize his surroundings. Perhaps if he got a good basis of where things were beforehand, he could get Eiríkur, and they would steal away in the middle of the night.

"But, Eiríkur-"

"Oh, honestly, Mathias! Don't tell me you're letting a little kid like him talk to you like that." The most posh voice Lukas had ever heard rang out across the air, and Lukas scowled; he had dealt with the Celts before, so he instantly recognized the accent as being from a more southerly place on this godforsaken island.

"Arthur!" Mathias leaped upward and over the side of the boat, running and tackling a blonde man, who laughed loudly at the embrace.

"Well, hello to you, too, Mathias." They stood, hugging one another, for a few seconds more before Mathias leaped back, saying "Oh, Arthur, I almost forgot!" and running back to the boat, dragging the Celt _[3]_ with him.

"This is my best friend, Lukas, and his brother, Eiríkur!" Mathias excitedly pointed up at the two boys on the ship, and they both scowled in precisely the same way.

Arthur raised one of his eyebrows, and Lukas wondered if they were even real.

"I can see the family resemblance." The blonde said drily.

"Oh, yeah, they do that a lot, but you'll get used to it!" Mathias was positively _bursting_ with excitement.

"Why should I get used to it? They're your friends, and, judging from their expressions, I won't want to converse with them anytime soon."

The Dane looked sheepish. "Yeah, well...they're going to be our new thralls!"

Arthur just stared.

"But we already have thralls. Or have you forgotten Xiang, Mei, and Im Wong?" The Celt asked testily, drawing his abnormally large eyebrows together. At the name Mei, Lukas' snapped his attention back to the pair, and it did not go unnoticed by the Celt.

"Do you know one of my thralls?" This seemed to cause something to harden in Arthur, and Lukas couldn't figure out why. He declined an answer.

"Tch. I can't believe you brought someone who can't even bother to speak when spoken to." Arthur glared at Mathias, and the Dane pursed his lips in anger.

"Hey. Watch it." Mathias threatened, gripping his axe tighter, and Lukas wondered at how close the two blondes before him really were. Apparently not very, considering how quickly and easily the Viking had resorted to violence. Arthur's stance immediately became straighter, more alert, and the two gazed at each other a few moments before breaking standing at ease once again.

These two certainly were odd, Lukas mused.

"I would appreciate not being discussed as if my brother and I weren't here." Eiríkur yelled out to the Dane and Celt, standing shakily and leaning on the side of the long-boat for assistance; his knuckles turned white he was gripping the side so hard. Lukas glanced at his brør hesitantly, silently asking with his eyes if he should help the snowy-haired boy, but a slight shake of the younger's head denied him to do so.

"Well you should get used to it, thrall." Arthur called up haughtily, and Mathias hit him upside the head in punishment.

"His name's Eiríkur. You call your other thralls by their name, and you'll do the same for them." Mathias growled, and Arthur rubbed the back of his now-sore head, pouting.

"Fine." He muttered, and then turned back to the ship from which the two Vikings were disembarking. "You should get used to it, _Eiríkur_." The emphasis on the name was punctuated with a glare at the Dane, who took no notice of it, instead contenting himself on gazing at Lukas.

The Norwegian felt the gaze on his back like wildfire, but ignored it, trying to send out waves of 'stop staring at me, idiot, it's annoying' towards Mathias.

"Oh, shut it, you-"

"Eiríkur, let him be. We might as well get used to it. Besides, after a while, if they trust us, they might let us out of their sight enough for us to leave." Understanding shone in Eiríkur's eyes, and he nodded.

"Hey, Lukas, Eiríkur, hurry up! We got to take you to the Kirkland house!" Mathias called out loudly, and Lukas turned around to see a dazzling smile that sent his stomach into well-performed acrobatics.

He grabbed his brør's hand, and led him over to the Dane and Celt, the latter of which promptly turned on his heel and began showing them the way to his household the second the two Vikings made it to the group.

* * *

><p>The village was rather small, in Lukas' opinion. Larger than his own, of course, as his village had been compromised of only his family-but, still managing to be smaller than many of the villages the Norwegian had seen.<p>

Walking through, Lukas noticed all kinds of things he recognized- a smithy, a dining hall, a few houses scattered across the fields, said fields dotted with sheep and goats.

In truth, it was a lot like his own village; so much so that he felt a burning feeling of homesickness get lodged in his throat. He turned his face away from the stares, refusing to look at anyone as tears burned behind his eyes. Why did these memories have to accost him now? It was ridiculous-the memories he wanted to regain refused to come out of the fog, but the ones he wanted most to get rid of badgered him until he felt like…_this_.

The loss of his family hit him just then-seeing this place, so much like where he grew up, brought back a torrent of memories that kicked and hit and tortured Lukas with how bittersweet they were.

Mathias must have sensed Lukas' discomfort, because he stepped beside him, walking closely beside him-so close their hands brushed as they swung between them. Every time they touched, Lukas' breath hitched, and he couldn't tell if it was from the held-back tears, or_ him_. His skin burned wherever they touched his, but felt bitingly cold at the same time, as if his skin couldn't figure out how to react.

They began nearing a small home on the very outskirts of the village, and Arthur headed inside, closely followed by Eiríkur. Just as the Norwegian was about to follow his brør through the doorway, Mathias grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

"What are you doing?" Lukas yelled, but Mathias motioned for him to shush. He did so, but with a scowl, making sure that Mathias knew Lukas wasn't very comfortable with this…

His arm burned where the Dane touched it, and he felt almost…disappointed when it was let go.

"What's wrong, Norge?" Mathias asked quietly, using that atrocious nickname that Lukas detested. After hearing it only a few times at sea, he was already tired of it.

"What's wrong? My family's gone. I'm a thrall. I'm not at home. I can't openly worship my gods. _That_'_s_ what's wrong, Mathias." Lukas spit out, and Mathias looked injured.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Lukas, really-"

"You're always sorry, Mathias! You should have left me to die! At least then it would have been in honor! I would have died at sea, protecting the women in my family!" He whisper-yelled, tears filling his eyes, and he turned away gruffly.

He felt Mathias tense behind him.

"Well, you were the one that agreed! If you were so set on dying, and leaving the women by themselves to die at sea by the hands of the Densen's, then why didn't you?"

"You didn't give me much of a choice, did you? You said so yourself that you would have taken me and Eiríkur with you whether we agreed or not."

"Well-" The Dane sighed deeply, and Lukas heard him run his fingers through his hair, muttering something. "I wouldn't let you die. You know that."

Lukas whirled around, tears finally spilling over.

"Why?" He yelled. "Why couldn't you have just left me to die? I don't want this-this-this _life_, Mathias! I have a brør to take care of, I can't allow him to-"

"Exactly! You have family to take care of! That's why you did this!" They were so close now, so close, Lukas skin tingled, burned, singed-

"You cared about your brør so much that you let yourself and him be taken as thralls so you could live! Remember that, Lukas." Mathias turned from the Norwegian then, stalking into the home.

Lukas stood outside, staring at the doorway. After a few minutes, he angrily wiped his tears and followed suit, stepping into his new home.

* * *

><p><em>[1] Well, actually, there were no rooms in a Viking household, but I'm God, okay? "<em>A low bench follows each of the long sides on which the inhabitants sleep at night. The fireplace is in the middle of the house, at its center, with a hole in the roof above to allow smoke to get out." _This quote was taken from:_

ht tp:/ www. vikingdenmark. com/ viking- houses- architecture- inside- layout. Html

_[2] Thrall is just the name of a slave in Viking times_

_[3] Celts- these were just the name of one of the groups of people who inhabited the UK at the time. Although only the Anglo-Saxons were to the south (the England area), I have made it so that Arthur is going to have been adopted into the Kirkland family, and so now he's a Celt. The Celts and the Gaels were up north, where they are now. _

_[4] Well, there weren't really any Viking villages per se, but this is essential to my story, so a village it was. Gosh, I don't like how inaccurate I'm being…"_ Viking settlers lived not so much in villages, but rather on isolated, regularly spaced farmsteads surrounded by grain fields, and led by chieftainships with multiple farmsteads."

_Quote taken from:_

ht tp:/ archaeology. about. com/ od/ vikings/ qt/ viking_village. htm

**Lol. I should probably be studying for my exams that start tomorrow, but I'm too lazy…**

**Er, the island that the women were dropped off isn't supposed to be any island in particular. I don't even think there is one around that area, but let's say there is. Because this is my story. And I felt like playing God. **

**Yay! England has made his appearance! Arthur is going to be around 19, I believe, although this may change... **

**Also, although they haven't arrived yet, I did mention them: Scotland, Ireland, and Wales! I have stolen their names from the ever so lovely BlackWindButterfly, and their names are Ian, Russell, and Gwynn, respectively. After reading her story Abracadame, I just fell in love with those names, so I am using them~ I will tell you their ages in the next chapter. As well as Hong Kong and Taiwan. Hong Kong is Xiang, and will be 16, and Taiwan is Mei, around 27. **

**Oh, and Korea and Finland. Almost forgot them~ Korea's Im Wong, and is approximately 22 or so. Finland is Tino, and is around 17, to refresh your memory. **

**Omg. Just noticed that while I was listening to Shiver by Shawn Desman (which is highly recommended) I wrote that whole bit about their hands brushing, and cute nonsense~ but really, I only have a few songs for DenNor, and that is my top one. Go listen!**

**R&R! Whoever does, gets Mr. Puffin!**


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